the philebus - universal theosophy · philebus, in fupport of his own affertion, had been...

T H E P H I L E B U S :

- A

D I A L O G U E

CONCERNING

T H E C H I E F G O O D O F MAN.

I N T R O D U C T I O N

T O

T H E P H I L E B U S .

T H E defign of this dialogue is to difcover what is the chief good of man ; and in order to effect this in the moff perfect manner, it is divided into twelve parts. In the firft part, therefore, Plato propofes the fubject of difcuffion, viz. what the good of man is, and whether wifdom or pleafure is more conducive to the attainment of this good. In the fecond part, he explains the condition of a voluptuous life, and alfo of a life according to wifdom, that it may be feen which of the two moft contributes to felicity, and alfo whether fome third ftate of life will appear, which is better than either of thefe ; and that, if this fhould be the cafe, it may be feen whether pleafure or wifdom is more allied to the perfection of this life. In the third part, he mows how this difcuffion fhould be conducted, and that divifion and definition fhould precede demonstration. In the fourth, he defcribes the conditions of the good, and fhows that neither wifdom nor .pleafure is the chief good of man. In the fifth part, he inveftigates the genus of pleafure, and alfo of wifdom, and unfolds thofe two great genera of things bound and the infinite, principles the next in dignity to the ineffable caufe of al l ; from which two he exhibits that which is mixt, and preiages the caufe of the mixture. In the fixth part, becaufe through thofe genera certain fparks of knowledge are enkindled, he enters on the companion between pleafure and wifdom. In the feventh, he more largely explains the caufe of the mixture, and continues the companion more clearlv In the eighth part, the principles and ^clicra being now unfolded, he inveftigates

the

464 I N T R O D U C T I O N T O

the differences; inquires, in what pleafure and pain confifr, which among thefe are properly produced from paffion, and how many parts they contain. In the ninth part, he inveftigates, in what fcience properly confifts, and, having divided it, fhows that a certain third life prefides over wifdom, and wifdom over pleafure. In the tenth part, it appears how pleafure and wifdom are mingled together, and that our good confifts in a compofi-tion of this kind. In the eleventh part, he inquires what it is in that com-pofition from the dominion of which felicity is produced; in which part both our good and good itfelf become confpicuous. And, in the twelfth and laft part, all the kinds of good which are purfuable as ends are enumerated in order, according to the relative value of each of them to man.

" The fubjeel of this dialogue," fays Mr. Sydenham, " is introduced by ftating the different opinions of Socrates and Philebus concerning the nature of that good wherein the happinefs of man is to be found ; opinions which, it feems, they hadjuft before feverally avowed. Philebus, a man ftrongly prepoffeffed with the doctrine of Ariftippus, had afferted that this good was pleafure, meaning pleafurable fenfation, or pleafure felt through the outward fenfes. On the other hand Socrates had fuppofed the fovereign good of man to be placed in mind, and in the energies of mind on mental fub-jecls. Philebus, in fupport of his own affertion, had been haranguing for a long time together, after the manner of the fophifts, until he found his fpirits and imagination, or perhaps his flock of plaufible arguments, quite exhaufted. He had, therefore, defired his friend Protarchus, a young gentleman who appears to have been a follower of Gorgias, to take up the controverfy, and carry it on in his ftead and behalf. Protarchus had confented, and had engaged himfelf fo to do. Immediately on this engagement, at this very point of time the prefent dialogue commences: accordingly it is carried on chiefly between Socrates and Protarchus. But as Philebus is the principal perfon whofe opinion combats againfl that of Socrates, and as no higher character is given to Protarchus than that of accelfary, or fecond to Philebus, in this argumentative combat, the dialogue now before us, very properly and confidently with the rule which Plato feems to have laid down to himfelf in naming his dialogues, has the name given to it of Philebus."

This admirable dialogue is replete with fome of the moft important dogmas 7 of

T H E P H I L E B U S . 465

of the Platonic theology, as will appear from our notes upon i t ; and by thofe who are capable of knowing wholes from parts it may be collected from what is here faid, that intellect has not the fame order with the firft caufe of all. For, if our intellect is the image of the firft intellect, and the good of the whole of our life is not to be defined according to this alone, it neceffarily follows that the caufe of good is eftablifhed above intellectual perfection. The good, therefore, or the ineffable principle of things, has a fuper-intellectual fubfiftence, agreeably to what is afferted in the Sixth Book of the Republic.

I fhall only add, as is well obferved by Mr. Sydenham, that the apparent form of this dialogue is dramatic ; the genius of it, didaclic\ and the reafon* ing, for the moft part analytical.

VOL. IV. T H E


P E R S O N S O F T H E D I A L O G U E .

SOCRATES, PROTARCHUS, PHILEBUS.

SCENE.—The LYCEUM.

S O C R A T E S .

C O N S I D E R 1 now, Protarchus, what the doctrine of Philebus is, which you are taking upon yourfelf to fecond and fupport ; and what things faid by me you are going to controvert, if they mould be found fuch as are not agreeable to your mind. Will you permit me to ftate, in a fummary way, the difference between my pofitions and thofe of Philebus ?

P R O T . By all means. Soc. Philebus then fays, that the good of all animals is joy, and pleafure,

and delight2, and whatever elfe is congenial to them, and harmonizes with all other things of the fame kind. And what I contend for is, that thofe things are not the beft; but that to be wife, and to underftand3, and

to

1 The beginning of this dialogue fuppofes that much converfation had patted, immediately before, between Socrates and Philebus.—S.

2 This part of the fentence, to give it a literal tranflation, runs thus: that it is good for all animals to rejoice, and (to feel) pleafure and delight, &c.—But in tranflating it we chofe to give it that meaning which is rightly prefumcd by Socrates to be agreeable to the fentimcnts of Philebus; for otherwife there would be no oppofition between the opinion of Philebus and his own.—S.

3 How is intellect, fays Olympiodorus, fpoken of with relation to pleafure? For, in the firft place, appetite (orexis) rather is divided in oppofition to knowledge; but appetite and pleafure are not the fame. And, in the next place, there is a certain pleafure in knowledge. To this wc may

reply,


remember, and whatever is of kin to them, right opinions, and true reafon-ings, are better things than pleafure, and more eligible to all beings univer-fally, that is, to fuch as are capable of receiving the participation of them ; and that to all beings which have that capacity, the actual partaking of them is of all things the moft advantageous, not only to thofe beings which are, but to thofe alfo which are to come. Do we not, O Philebus,, you and I,, feverally lay down fome fuch hypothefes as thefe ?

P H I L . Exactly fuch, O Socrates 1

reply, that there is a pleafure in knowledge, in confequence of its participation of appetite. For to be pleafantly affecled when we apprehend the object: of knowledge, arifes from the affumption of appetite. But to the other queftion we may reply, that the inveftigative is analogous to the orectic power: for inveftigation, being as it were a gnoftic orexis (appetite), is a way to a certain end j juft as orexis haftens to a certain thing. But the poffeflion of the object of appetite is analogous to knowledge, which is the poffeflion of truth.

Again, the vital and the orectic are not the fame. For life is alfo predicated of knowledge; fince knowledge moves, and that which knows is moved," which is efpecially the peculiarity of life. But that which knows is moved when it inveftigates, not when it has arrived at the end, which knowledge fignifies.

Again, good is predicated both of knowledge and orexis: for knowledge is beneficial, and is the caufe of union with the object of knowledge. But the good of orexis is, as it were, prattic,, and we wifh not to know, but to be paflive to it, and we embrace it more nearly, but do not endure to have it at a diftance. But we can endure the object of knowledge, though at a diftance for we wifh to know and not to be it. What, however, fhall we fay the orectic is? For it is not common good j fince this alfo pertains to knowledge. Nor is it fomething unknown : for orexis fubfifts together with knowledge. It is, therefore, a certain good which is known. Hence, it moves from itfelf the perceiver. But this is the beautiful j fince orexis, confidered according to its common acceptation, is nothing elfe than love ; though love is a ftrenuous orexis. For the more and the lefs produce no alteration according to fpecies ; but the ftrenuous is intenfenefs alone. Further ftill, the pleafant is the attendant of orexis ; but the pleafant is apparent beauty. For apparent good is benignant and lovely to all animals. But may not the beautiful be thus related to the good, according to indication ? For, in the firft place, the good is above idea; but things which are in forms are more allied to us. For the good is the formal object of orexis j but the beautiful is the formal object of love; juft as being is the formal object of knowledge. Orexis, however, differs in fpecies from love. For, if orexis is affumed in common, it is extended to one. common good. But, if the ends arc feparated, the powers alfo which haften towards them muft be feparated. For the contact which, according to its idiom, is called friendfhip, tptxicc, and which makes a union with good, is one thing, and the power which harmonizes with this muft be called, defire. spurts j but the power which, according to indigence, urges the multitude is another j and; a thing of this kind is denominated love, ep?, and haftens to the beautiful.—T..

3 O, 2„ S O C .

•168 T H E P H I L E B U S .

S o c . And will you, Protarchus, take up the controvcrfy, as I have juft now ftated it ?

P R O T . O f neceflity 1 I muft. For Philebus, the champion of our fide, U tired and gives out.

S o c . N o w it is right and proper for us to difcovcr, by all means poffible, the full force and meaning of both thofe hypothefes ; and not to give over till we have determined the controvcrfy between them.

P R O T . I agree with you, it is. S o c . L e t us agree in this too, befides. P R O T . In what r S o c . That we fliould, each of u s 1 , endeavour to fet forth what ftate and

what affection 3 of the foul is able, according to our different hypothefes, to procure for every man a happy life. Is it not our bufinefs fo to do?

P R O T . 1 Neceffity is threefold : for it is either felf-perfect, affociating with the good; or material, with

which indigence and imbecility aflbciate ; or it is as that which is referred to an end, as navigation with a view to gain. Thus Proclus.-—T.

* The Greek of this fentence, in all the editions of Plato, is avruv iKartpoi. But all the tranf-lators interpret, as if they read in the MSS. nfutv Etttntpo;: a reading which is clearly agreeable to the fenfe of the paffage, and makes it eaficr to be under flood. In the printed reading the word auTuv muft refer to XOYWV, which is more remote, and has been rather implied than exprefied ; GCVTUV ittaTspcs will then mean the argument of each \ but to fay, the argument ftould endeavour, is in a ftyle too figurative and bold to be ufed by any profaic writer.—S.

3 In the Greek,—c&Y XAI hah

T H E P H I L E B U S . 46Q

PROT . Ce r t a in ly it i s .

S o c . W e l l then : Y o u fay that it is that o f re jo ic ing ; \ v c , that it is that

o f undcr f tand ing and th ink ing r ight ly .

P R O T . T r u e .

S o c B u t wha t if there fhould appear f o m e o ther , p re fe rab le to both ot

thefe, but m o r e near ly o f kin to p leafure ? fhould w e not in this cafe be both

o f us confu ted , and ob l iged to yield the p r e f e r ence to a life wh ich g i v e s the

ftable pofTeffion o f thofe very t i l ings w h e r e i n you p lace h u m a n happ ine f s r

H o w e v e r , at the f ame t ime it muff be a g r e e d , that a life o f p leafure wou ld be

found m o r e e l ig ible than a life of k n o w l e d g e or in te l lec t ion .

P R O T . W i t h o u t doub t .

S o c . B u t i f that bet ter ftatc o f the foul fhould a p p e a r to be m o r e nearly*

al l ied to k n o w l e d g e , in that c a f e , k n o w l e d g e w o u l d be found to h a v e the a d

v a n t a g e over p lea fure , and p leafure muf t g i v e p l a c e . D o y e not a g r e e w i t h

m e , that thefe th ings a r e fo ? or h o w o the rwi fe fay y e tha t they a re ?

P R O T . T o m e , I muf t confefs , they feem to be a s y o u rcprefen t t h e m .

S o c . B u t to Ph i lebus h o w f e e m they ? W h a t fay y o u , Ph i l ebus ?

P H I L . T o m e p leafure f e e m s , a n d wi l l a l w a y s f e e m , to be the fupcr ior ,

w h a t e v e r it be c o m p a r e d wi th . A n d y o u , P r o t a r c h u s , wi l l be a t l eng th c o n

v inced o f it yourfe l f .

PROT . Af te r h a v i n g refigned to m e the m a n a g e m e n t o f the d e b a t e , y o u

can no l onge r be the maf ter o f w h a t fhould be y ie lded to S o c r a t e s , a n d w h a t

fhould not .

P H I L . YOU a re in the r igh t . B u t , h o w e v e r , I h a v e d i f cha rged m y d u t y ;

and 1 here cal l the G o d d e f s her fe l f to wi tne f s it.

PROT . W C too a re witneffes o f the f ame ; and c a n teftifv vour m a k i n g o f

the affertion which you have juf t m a d e . B u t n o w , as to tha t e x a m i n a t i o n ,

O S o c r a t e s ! wh ich is to fol low after w h a t you and I h a v e a g r e e d in , w h e

ther Phi lebus be w i l l i ng to confen t , or h o w e v e r he m a y be d i fpofed , let u s

try to g o t h rough wi th it, and b r ing it to a conc luf ion .

active ; a ftate, to which thofe impreffions from without, and thofe energies within, gradually lead her;—and alfo that, in like manner as fome certain previous difpofition of the foul is neceffary to every finglc act which is voluntary, fo is it alfo neceffary to the receiving of every im-prcfTion from without, and to the performing of every energy within.—S.

Soc.

470 T H E P H I L E B U S .

Soc. By all means, let us ; beginning with that very Goddefs who, according to him, is called Venus, but whofe true name is Pleafure

PROT . Perfectly right. Soc. The fear1 which I have always in me concerning the proper

names of the Gods, is no ordinary kind of fear ; but furpalTes the greateft dread. Hence, in the prefent cafe, with regard to Venus, whatever name be agreeable to the Goddefs, by that would I choofe to call her. But as to pleafure 3 , how various a thing it is, I well know. And with this, as I juft now faid, ought we to begin, by confidering and inquiring into the nature of pleafure firft. For we hear it called, indeed, by one fmgle name, as if it wrere one fimple thing: it alTumes, however, all forts of forms, even fuch as

1 Why is Pleafure, fays Olympiodorus, a Goddefs, according to Philebus ? May we not fay, As that which is the object of defire, artd as an end ? But why is Venus a Goddefs? Shall we fay, As lovely ? Perhaps they are Goddeffes, becaufe they are both concerned in the procreationt of animals, the one as a prefiding power, the other as a paflion. Why, too, is Pleafure not confidered as a Goddefs by any of the antients* ? Becaufe, fays Proclus, it neither is a preceda-neous good, nor immediately beautiful, nor has a middle fubfiftence, and different from both thefe. We muft fay, however, that Pleafure, according to Jamblichus, is a Goddefs, and is recognized in temples by Proclus the Laodicean.

Again, no one of the antients fays that. Venus is Pleafure. What then is the reafon of this? May we not fay, that it is becaufe Venus has a copulative power, and that a certain pleafure follows copulation ? And alfo, that this pleafure is accompanied with much of the deformed ? Venus, however, is beautiful, not only that Venus which is divine, but that alfo which belongs-to nature. And in theology, the idiom of Venus is different from that of Euppoaruvn, Delight.—T.

a Why does Socrates, fays OlympioJorus, fo much venerate the names of the Gods ? bhall we fay, Becaufe formerly things adapted were confecrated to appropriate natures, and becaufe it is unbecoming to move things immovable ? or, that names are adapted to the nature of the Gods, according to what is faid in the Cratylus ? or, that thefe names are vocal images of the Gods, according to Democritus ? But how does a worthy man fear ? Either very properly the divine wrath ; or this fear is a veneration, but not a certain paflion attended with dread. I fhall only obferve, in addition to what is faid by Olympiodorus, that this paffage, among a multitude of others, proves, beyond all poflibility of contradiction, that Socrates believed in the exiftence of divine beings, the immediate progeny of the ineffable caufe of all, or, in other words, was a poly-theift.—T.

3 Pleafure fubfifts together with motion; for it is the attendant of it. But the motion of intellect is an immutable energy j that of foul, a mutable energy ; and that of an animal, a paffivt energy. But that of a plant is paflion only.—T.

* Viz. by none of the Greek theologies, 9 are

T H E P 11 I L E B U S. 471

arc the mof t u n l i k e o n e to ano the r . F o r obfe rve : w e fay tha t the i n t e m p e

ra te m a n has pleafure ; and tha t the t e m p e r a t e m a n has p lea fure a l f o , — p l e a

fure in be ing w h a t he i s , tha t i s , t e m p e r a t e . A g a i n : w e fay tha t p leafure

a t t ends on fo l ly , and on the m a n w h o is full o f foolifh op in ions and foolifh

h o p e s ; that p leafure a t t ends a l fo on the m a n w h o th inks wi fe ly ,—plea fu re in

that very m e n t a l e n e r g y , his t h ink ing wi fe ly . N o w a n y perfon w h o w o u l d

aff irm thefe pleafures to be o f f imilar k i n d , w o u l d be juf t ly d e e m e d to w a n t

underf tand ing .

P R O T . T h e pleafures w h i c h you m e n t i o n , O S o c r a t e s , a r e indeed p r o d u c e d

by con t ra ry caufes ; bu t in the p leafures t h e m f e l v e s there is n o c o n t r a r i e t y .

F o r h o w fhould p leafure no t be f imilar to p lea fu re , i t fe l f to itfelf, the m o f t

f imilar o f al l t h ings 1 ?

S o c . J u f t fo , c o l o u r t o o , m y fr iend, differs not f r o m c o l o u r in this refpecl:,

that it is co lour , a l l . A n d ye t , w e all o f u s k n o w tha t b l a c k , befides b e i n g

different f rom w h i t e , h a p p e n s to be a l fo i ts d i rec t c o n t r a r y . S o f igure , t o o ,

i s a l l one wi th f igure , after the f a m e m a n n e r , in the g e n e r a l . B u t as to the

pa r t s o f tha t o n e g e n e r a l t h i n g , f o m e a r e d i rec l ly c o n t r a r y to o thers ; a n d

be tween the reft there h a p p e n s to be a k ind o f infinite d iverf i ty . A n d m a n y

o ther th ings w e fhall find to be o f this n a t u r e . B e l i e v e not then this p o r

t ion, that th ings the mof t con t ra ry a r e al l o f t h e m o n e . A n d 1 fufpect tha t

w e fhall alfo find f o m e pleafures q u i t e con t ra ry to o ther p l ea fu res .

P R O T . I t m a y be fo. B u t how wil l tha t hur t m y fide o f the quef t ion ?

S o c . In that you ca l l t h e m , diffimilar as they a r e , b y a n o t h e r n a m e ; (fhal l

w e f a y ? ) for al l pleafant t i l ings you call good. N o w that al l p lea fan t t h ings

are p leafant , a d m i t s o f no di fpute . B u t t h o u g h m a n y o f t h e m a r e ev i l , a n d

m a n y indeed g o o d , as I readi ly a c k n o w l e d g e , ye t a l l o f t h e m you ca l l g o o d ;

and at the f a m e t i m e ) o u confefs t h e m to be dif l imilar in their na tu res , w h e n

a m a n forces you to this confeft ion. W h a t then is tha t , the f a m e in e v e r y

1 This was the very language, or manner of cxpreflion, ufed by a feci of philofophers called Cyrenaics, from Cyrene, the native city of Ariftippus, their mafter. For the Cyrenaics held, fay« l.acrtius, /xn cftaf tpsiv £:$, that pleafure differs net from pleafure. Whence it appears probable, that Philebus derived Ids notions and expreftions on this point from fome of the difciples of Ariflippus, if not from Ariftippus himfelf. For this philofopher, after he had for fome time converted with Socrates, for the fake of whofe converfation became to Athens, departed thence, and went to yEgina ; where he profelicd the teaching of philofophy, and where he refided till after the death of Soci«:es.—S.

plea fure ,


pleafure, in the evil pleafures equally with the good, from which you give to all pleafures the denomination of good ?

PROT. What is that, O Socrates, which you fay ? Do you imagine that any perfon, after having afferted that pleafure is the good, will admit your fuppofition ? or will fuffer it to pafs uncontradicted, that only fome pleafures are good, but that other pleafures are evil ?

S o c . However, you will acknowledge that pleafures are unlike one to another, and fome even contrary to others ?

P R O T . By no means ; fo far as they are pleafures, every one of them. S o c . W e are now brought back again to the fame pofition, O Protarchus!

There is no difference between pleafure and pleafure; all pleafures are alike, we muft fay : and the fimilar inftances, juft now produced, in colours and in figures, have had, it feems, no effect, upon us. But we fhall try, and talk after the manner of the meaneft'arguers, and mere novices in dialectic.

P R O T . H O W do you mean ? S o c . I mean, that if I, to imitate you, and difpute with you in your own

way, lhould dare to affert that two things, the moft unlike, are of all things the moft like to each other, I fhould fay nothing more than what you fay: io that both of us would appear to be rawer difputants than we ought to be ; and the fubject of our difpute would thus flip out of our hands, and get away. L e t us refume it, therefore, once more : and, perhaps, by returning to f i m i l i t u d e s w e may be induced to make fome concefTions each of us to the other.

1 The fenfe and the reafoning require a fmall alteration to be here made in the Greek copies of Plato, by reading, inftead of rag 1/A.ctag,—Tag l^oiornrag, f.militudes, or rather ra o/j.oia,fmiles.—Si miles of the kind here meant are by Ariftotle, in his Art of Rhetoric, lib. ii. cap. 20. edit. Du Vail, juftly fly led ra Xuxpartxa, Socratic, becaufe frequently employed by Socrates. They are not fuch as thofe for which the imagination of a poet fkims over all nature, to illuftrate fome things by fuper-ficial refemblances to them in other things: neither are they fuch as the memory of an orator ranfacks all hiftory for, to prove the certainty of fome doubtful fact by examples on record, which agree with it in a few circumftances: but they are fuch as the reafon of an accomplifhed matter of dialectic choofes out from fubjects near at hand, to prove the truth of fome uncertain or controverted pofition, by the analogy it bears to fome other truth which is obvious, and clear, and will be readily admitted. Such a fimile, bearing the plaineft and moft ftriking analogy with what is to be proved, is a&ually produced, immediately after this preface to it, by Socrates. But not a word is there in what follows concerning fimilar pleafures ; and rag h^oiag^ alike ox fimilar, cannot be joined with, or belong to, any preceding noun, befidc Uovag. As to the word returning, in the prefent fentence, it refers to thofe fimiles produced before of colour and of figure.—S.


PROT. Say how. S o c . Suppofe me to be the party queftioned ; and fuppofe yourfelf, Pro

tarchus, to interrogate me. P R O T . Concerning what ? POL. Concerning prudence, and fcience, and intelligence, and all the reft

of thofe things which in the beginning of our converfation I faid were good, when I was afked what fort of a thing good was ; muft I not acknowledge thefe to be attended with the fame circumftance which attends thofe other things celebrated by you ?

P R O T . What circumftance ? S o c . T h e fciences, viewed all of them together, will feem to both of us

not only many, and of diverfe kinds, but diffimilar too, fome to others. N o w if befides there fhould appear a contrariety 1 in any way, between fome of them and others, fhould I deferve to be difputed with any longer, if, fearful of admitting contrariety between the fciences, 1 were to affert that no one fcience was diffimilar to any other fcience? For then the matter in debate between us, as if it were a mere fable, being deftroyed, would vanifh : while we faved ourfelves by an illogical retreat. But fuch an event ought not to happen, except this part of it,—the faving of ourfelves. And now the equality, which appears thus far between your hypothecs and mine, I am well enough pleafed with. T h e pleafures happen to be found many and diffimilar ; many alfo and diverfe are the fciences. T h e difference, however, b e tween your good and mine, O Protarchus, let us not conceal: but let us dare to lay it fairly and openly before us both; that we may difcover, (if thofe who are clofely examined will make any difcovery,) whether pleafure or wifdom ought to be pronounced the chief good of man, or whether any third thing, different from either : fince it is not, as I prefume, with this view that we contend, that my hypothefis, or that yours, may prevail over its antago-nift ; but that which hath the truth on its fide, we are both of us to contend for and fupport.

P R O T . This is certainly our duty.

1 Contrariety in the fciences is nothing more than diverfity. For one fcience is not in oppofition to, or hoftile to, another; fince fecondary are fubfervient to prior fciences, and from them derive their proper principles.—T.

VOL. iv. 3 p Soc,


S o c But this point further we mould, both of us together, fettle on the fureft ground.

P R O T . W h a t point do you mean ? S o c . T h a t which puzzles and perplexes all perfons who choofe to make

it the fubject of their converfation : nay, fometimes fome others, who have no fuch intention, are led to it unawares in converfation upon other fubjects.

P R O T . Exprefs what you mean in plainer terms. S o c . I mean that which fell in our way but juft now, the nature of which

is fo full of wonders. For that many are one 1 ' , and that one is many, is wonderful to have it fa id; and either of thofe pofitions is eafy to be controverted.

P R O T . D O you mean fuch pofitions as this,—that I Protarchus, who am by nature one perfon, am alfo many ? and fuch as thefe others,—that myfelf, and other perfons the reverfe of me,—the great alfo and the little, the heavy and the light, are one and the fame ? with a thoufand pofitions more which might be made of like kind ?

S o c . T h e wonders, O Protarchus, which you have now fpoken of, relating to the one and many, have been hackneyed in the mouths of the vulgar; but by the common agreement, as it were, of all men, they are now laid afide, and are never to be mentioned : for they are confidered as childifti and eafy objections, and great impediments alfo to difcourfe. It is now alfo agreed, never to introduce into converfation, as an inftance of one and many, the members or parts into which any fingle thing may be confidered as divi-fible. Becaufe, when a refpondent has once admitted and avowed, that all thefe [members or parts'] are that one thing, which is thus at the fame time many, he is refuted and laughed at by his queftioner, for having been driven to affert fuch monftrous abfurdities as thefe,—that a fingle one is an infinite multitude, and an infinite multitude only one.

P R O T . What other things, then, not hackneyed among the vulgar, nor as yet univerfally agreed on, do you mean, O Socrates, relating to this point ?

S o c . I mean, young man, when a thing is propofed to be confidered, which is one, but is not of the number or nature of things generated and pe-

1 Sec the Parmenides.—T. rifhable.


rifhable. For as to the ones of this latter fort, it is agreed, as f juft now faid, to reject them, as unworthy of a ferious confutation. T h e ones which I mean are fuch as man, ox, beauty, good. When thefe henads 1 , or fuch as thefe, are propofed for fubjects of debate, much ferious attention is given them; and when they come to be divided, any one of them into many, much doubt and controverfy arifes.

P R O T . Upon what points ? S o c In the firft place, whether fuch monads fhould be deemed to have

true being. In the next place, how it is that thefe monads, every one of them being always the fame, and never generated, nor ever to be deftroyed, have, notwithftanding, one and the fame ftability common to them a l l* . And laftly, Whether we mould fuppofe every fuch monad to be difperfed.and fpread abroad amongft an infinity of things generated or produced, and thus, from being one, to become many ; or whether we fhould fuppofe it to remain entire, itfelf by i tfelf 3 , feparate and apart from that multitude. But , of all fuppofitions, this might appear the moft impoffible, that one and the fame

1 Plato, fays Olympiodorus, calls the fummits of forms monads and henads. He calls them henads, with reference to the appropriate multitude of which they are the leaders : but monads, with reference to the fupereflential. Or we may fay, that there are twofold fummits of forms, the one effential, and the other characterized by unity, as it is faid in the Parmenides.—See the Notes on the firft hypothefis of the Parmenides. From hence the ignorance of Cudworth is apparent, who, in his Intellectual Syftem, p. 555, confiders the doctrine of henads derived from the firft one, or the one itfelf, as a fiction of the latter Platonifts.—T.

a This fecond queftion fuppofes the firft queftion decided in favour of the true being of the monads. For, if univerfals are held to be only names, invented to denote unreal fancies or factitious notions, it is trifling and idle to inquire whence they derive ftability, this being an affection, or property, of real beings only,—unlefs it be as merely nominal, notional, or fantaftic, as thofe things are to which it is attributed.—The fentence now before us in the Greek is printed thus: vru; av iauia$, piav tKxtrrw ovrav an TWV aurnv, nai JAYITS ymtriv //WTE oAsfyov 7rpocr&xo[JL£\Y\v, o/xug eivai &e-

&WOT*!Tiav ravrw. The Greek text muft here be faulty ; and, to make good fenfe of it, it is neceflary to make a fmall alteration or two,—by reading tx^ inftead of wzt, and nai auiw inftead of RAUTNV. In tranflating this pafl'age, we have prefumed it ought to be fo read; and the meaning, intended to be conveyed by it, we fuppofe to be this :—" it muft needs feem ftrange, that uiirinct beings, not generated, fome of them by others, but all equally eternal, without intercommunity or interchange between them, fliould, nevcrthelefs, have one and the fame nature, that of monad or unity, and one and the fame property of their being, that of ftability.'"—S.

3 In the Greek we here read—avrnv aim x^Pli' ^ u t l t I S prefumed that we ought to read—• aumv «p' OUTUS X^C1!'—

3 p 2 thing


thing (hould be in a fingle one, and in many, at the fame time. Thefe points, O Protarchus, which regard fuch inftances as I have mentioned, and not fuch as were mentioned by you, thefe are they, which, for want of being rightly fettled, create all the difficulties and doubts we meet with in dif. courfe; but when once they are fettled rightly, they clear the way with eafe.

P R O T . Then, it feems, we are to labour thefe points firft. S o c . I fhould think we ought. PROT. And that we confent to it, you may take for granted, all of us

here. Philebus, indeed, it is beft perhaps, at prefent, not to difcompofe by afking him queftions, now that he is quiet.

S o c . Very wel l ; but in what way fhall we begin the difcuffion of thefe points in fo wide a field of controverfy ? Shall we begin thus ?

PROT. H O W ? Soc. W e fay, in fpeaking of thefe monads, (each of which is one, but, 0:1

a logical examination of it, appears to be divifible into many,) that they run throughout every fentence in our difcourfe, every where and always; and that, as their being (hall never have an end, fo neither does it firft begin in the prefent age. N o w this perpetual attendant upon all fpeech proceeds, as it feems to me, from fomething immortal and undecaying within ourfelves. And hence it is, that the youth every where, when they have thus had a tafte of it, are overjoyed at their having thus found a treafure of wifdom. Tranf-ported, therefore, with the delight it gives them, they apply it to every fubjeel of difcourfe: fometimes they collect particulars from all quarters, and roll them into one ; then they unroll them again, and part them afunder. After having in this way puzzled themfelves in the firft place, they queftion and puzzle the perfon next at hand, whether he be their equal in age, or younger than themfelves, or older, fparing neither father nor mother, nor any one elfe who will attend to them, fcarcely other animals more than man : it is certain they would not exempt any who fpeak a foreign language only, could they but find fomewhere an interpreter.

P R O T . D o you not fee, O Socrates, how numerous we are, and that all of us are young ? and are you not afraid that, if you rail at us, we fhall all join Philebus, and attack you jointly ? However (for we apprehend your meaning) , if you can by any means or contrivance eafily rid of us of thefe

perplexities,


perplexities, which hinder the progrcfs of our inquiry, and can devife fome better way of managing the argument, do you but give your mind to the pro-fecution of it, and we mail do our utmoft to follow and attend you. For the prefent debate is of no trifling concern, Socrates.

S o c . Indeed it is not, O boys! as Philebus called you. N o better way then is there, nor can there be, than that, which I am always a great lover of; but often before now it has flipped away from my fight, and has left me , as it were, in a defert, at a lofs whither to turn me.

P R O T , L e t us but know what way you mean. S o c . T o point out the way is not very difficult; but to travel in it, is the

moft difficult of all things. For all fuch human inventions as depend on art are, in this way, difcovered and laid open. Confider then the way which, I am fpeaking of.

P R O T . Do but tell it us then. S o c . A gift 1 of the Gods to men, as it appears to me, by a certain Pro

metheus * hurled from the Gods along with a fire the moft luminous. F r o m the

1 This gift is the dialeclic of Plato, of which we have given an ample account in the Introduction to, and Notes on, the Parmenides. I mall only obferve at prefent, that this vertex of the fciences confifts of four parts, viz. divifion, definition, detnonfiration, and analyfts* Of thefe, the diviftve art, fays Olympiodorus, is connate with the progrefhon of things ; but the analytic whh their converfion. And the definitive and demonflrative arts, which have a middle fituationi a r e fimilar to the hypoftafis, or fubfifting nature of things. The definitive, however, is analogous to that hypoftafis which fubfifts from itfelf} but the demonflrative to that which is fufpended from its caufe.—T.

3 Prometheus, fays Olympiodorus, does not produce good, as unfolding into light, but as a Titan. For he employs a providential care upon rational effences which proceed to the extremity, juft as Epimetheus provides for irrational natures. For irrational natures proceed to a care of things fubordinate, and, having proceeded, diflribute the whole of divine Providence. Again, the fire which Prometheus ftole, and gave to men, is every anagogic effence and perfection, diftri-buted through him to the laft of things. Hence it is faid to have been fo/en, becaufe an anagogic effence is deduced; but through him, becaufe it is alone deduced Titanically,—but other Gods give fubfiftence to a form of this kind.

Again, that every generated nature is one and many, is nothing wonderful; for thefe natures are partible, and participate of many habitudes ; but how is this the cafe with every intelligible effence? In the firft place, we may fay that each is a monad, and alfo a number, according to the feries of the monad ; as, for inftance, the beautiful, and things beautiful. In the fecond place, that the monad is both that which it is, and all other things according to commixtion. In the third

place,


the men of antient times, men better than we are, and dwelling nigher to the C o d s , this tradition of it hath defcendcd to us,—that thofe beings faid to be for ever derive their effence from one and many; and therefore have in themfelves bound and infinity connatural to them : that, being in the midfl of things fo conffituted as they are, we ought to fuppofe and to fearch for fome one idea in every thing around us; for that, fince it is there, we fhall, on fearching, be fure to find i t : that, after we have found it, we are next to look for two, if two only are next ; otherwife three, or fome other number: again, that every one of this number we are to examine in like manner : until at length a man not only perceives, that the one, with which he began, is one, and many, and infinite, but difcovers alfo how many it contains : for, that a man never fhould proceed to the idea of infinite, and apply it immediately to any number, before he has fully difcovered all the definite number which lies between the infinite and the one: but that, having completed

this

place, it both confifts from the genera of being and one idiom. In the fourth place, the idiom is multiplied together with the many j but there is a certain impartible fummit in all the many. In the fifth place, this fummit is an united form, but there is alfo fomething in it above form. And, in the fixth place, this fummit is at the fame time the united, but not the one. Further ftill, as all things are from one and many, it is neceffary that thefe two principles fhould be arranged prior to all things; the former being the caufe to all things of unity, and the latter of multitude. They muft likewife evidently be pofterior to the firft caufe ; for that is at once the caufe of all things.

Again, in the extremities of things infinite multitude is beheld, but in the fummit a monad prefubfifls, according to every form. But infinite multitude would not be generated, unlefs in the monad which generates it an infinite power was preaffumed. Nor would every individual in infinites be bounded, unlefs bound proceeded to the laft of things. Progrcffion fubfifts through all appropriate media, from the monad to infinite multitude. And, in the firft place, this is feen in multitude capable of being participated. For progrcffion is not immediately from the one to the infinite, but to two and three, and the following numbers. And, in the next place, the pro-greffion of bodies is of this kind, for it has no vacuum together with its variety. In the third place, the generative power of the monad being both one and many, at once generates all things according to the whole of itfelf; things fecondary being always ccnl'equent to fuch as are prior.

Further ftill, fays Olympiodorus, the divifive method proceeds together with the progrelfion of forms, not cutting off the continuity of fubje&ion, nor introducing a vacuum, but proceeding through all the media, from the one to the infinite. The bufinefs of the divifive method is firft to place the one every where before the many. Secondly, to place the finite before infinite multitude. Thirdly, always to define according to quantity, the leficr before the greater number. Fourthly, to omit no number of things which give completion to progreflion. Fifthly, to felecl;

numbers


this d i f covery , w e m o u l d then finiih our f ea rch ; and difmiff ing in to infinity

every one o f all thofe n u m b e r s , w e fliould bid f a rewe l l to t h e m . T h e G o d s ,

as I before faid, h a v e g iven us to confider th ings in this w a y , a n d in this w a y

to learn t h e m , a n d t each t h e m o n e to a n o t h e r . B u t t he wife m e n o f thefe

d a y s t ake any m o n a d w h a t e v e r , and d iv ide it in to m a n y wi th m o r e c o n c i f c -

nefs than they o u g h t , and w i t h m o r e pro l ix i ty t o o , fince they n e v e r c o m e t o

an end : for i m m e d i a t e l y af ter t he m o n a d they in t roduce infini ty, o v e r l o o k

i n g all the i n t e r m e d i a t e n u m b e r s ; the e x p r e f s m e n t i o n o f w h i c h , o r the

omiffion o f t h e m , di f f inguifhes fuch d i a l ec t i ca l a n d fair d e b a t e s a s o u r s , f r o m

fuch as a r e con ten t ious a n d fophif t ical .

P R O T . Pa r t o f w h a t you fay, S o c r a t e s , I feem to a p p r e h e n d to l e rab ly w e l l :

bu t the m e a n i n g o f f o m e t h i n g s w h i c h y o u have n o w fa id , I fhould be g l a d

to hear you e x p r e f s in p la iner t e r m s .

numbers adapted to refpedtive forms ; the triadic, for inftance, or the hebdomadic, to Minerva, and in a fimilar manner in all the reft. For different numbers proceed according to different forms; as alfo of the Gods, there are different numbers according to different Divinities. For of monads themfelves, one progreffion is monadic, as that of the monad ; another dyadic, as that of the dyad ; and in a fimilar manner with the reft : fo that there is not a divifion of all things into two. Sixthly, to divide through forms, but not through form and negation, according to the opinion of Ariftotle : for no number is produced from form and negation. Seventhly, to produce every monad into divifion in its proper order, whether it be in that of bound, or in that o f infinity : for each is every where. Ninthly, to produce things oppofitely divided, according to antithefis, whether certain media are difcovered, or not. Tenthly, not to leave the media in the extent (tv ru ifhcnii). Eleventhly, to afcribe different numbers appropriately to different orders, as the number twelve to fupermundane natures, and the number feven to intellectuals. Twelfthly, to fee where the leffer numbers are more excellent, and where they are fubordinate, and in a fimilar manner with refpect to the greater. For the mundane decad is fubordinate to the fupermundane duodecad; but the intellectual hebdomad is fuperior to it.

Again, the analytic art is fubordinate to the divifive : for the latter is from a caufe, but the former from a fign; and the latter from on high furveys things more fubordinate, but the former beholds downwards things on high ; and the latter ftops at nothing fenfible, but the former at firft ftands in need of fenfe. Thus, the latter giving fubfiftence and producing, nearly makes the whole of the proceeding effence; but the former converting, confers on that which has proceeded a departure from the fubordinate, and an adherence to the more excellent nature. On which account progreffion is more effential than converfion, and is therefore more excellent. So that proceffion is fuperior to converfion, and the effential to the anagogic In the defcent of the foul, however, fince progreffion is here an apoftacy from better natures, afcent which correfponds to converfion is better than progreffion or defcent.—-T. S 0 C »

7


S o c T h e whole of what I have (aid, Protarchus, is evident in letters. In thefe, therefore, which have been taught you from your childhood, you may eafily apprehend my meaning.

P R O T . H O W in letters? S o c Voice, that iflues out of the human mouth, may be confidered as

one general thing, admitting of an infinite number of articulations, not only in all men taken together, but alfo in every individual man.

P R O T . Without doubt. S o c N o w we are not made knowing in fpeech, or found articulate,

through the knowledge either of the infinity or of the orfenefs of its nature : but to know how many, and what, are the parts into which it is naturally divided,—this it is which makes any of us a grammarian, or fkilled in grammar.

P R O T . Moft certainly. S o c . And further, that by which a man comes to be fkilled in mufic is

this very thing. P R O T . H o w fo ? S o c . Mufical found 1 , which is the fubje& matter of this art, may be con

fidered in itfelf as one general thing. P H O T . Without difpute.

* In the Greelc, the term ufed here, as well as juft before, (where this translation hath the word voire,) is $u>*r\. It there fignified articulated vocal found, or fpeech'. it here fignifies mufical found of the voice, or vocal mufic. We fee then that fum, human voice, is by Plato fuppofed to be a common genus, divifible into thofe two forts or fpecies. It is exprefsly fo laid down by Ni-oomachus, (Harmonic. Enchirid. pag. 3, edit. Amft.) in thefe words :—Tn$ avOpuTrwns Quvrif ol air» rou Tlubayopixou $i$a«v» is laid down, and a fimilar account of it is given, by Ariftoxenus in Harmonic. Element, pag. 8 & 9, edit. Amil.—S.

S o c .

file:///oyixn'


Soc. And let us fuppofe two kinds of it, the grave and the acute, and a third kind between thofe two, the homotonous, or how otherwife 1 ?

P R O T . Mufical found in general is fo to be diftinguimed. S o c But with the knowledge of this diftin&ion only, you would not yet

be Ikilled in mufic ; though without knowing it you would be, as to mufic, quite worthlefs.

PROT. Undoubtedly. S o c . But, my friend, when you have learnt the intervals 1 between all

mufical founds, from the more acute to the more grave, how many they are in number, and into what forts they are diftinguifhed; when you have alfo learnt the bounds 3 of thefe intervals, and how many lyftems 4 are com-

pofed

1 Homotony of found is made when a (bring of fome ftringed inftrument of mufic, having the fame degree of tenfion with a fimilar firing of fome other, yields, in conjunction with it, the fame mufical tone; or when two different voices utter at the fame time mufical founds, neither of which is more acute, or more grave, than the other. In both cafes, the famenefs of the found is alfo termed ofto^wviot: for 0uv»i, voice, is (metaphorically) attributed to all mufical inftru-ments ; (fee Nicomachus, pag. 5 and 6.) as , on the other hand, tone is (by an eafy metaphor) attributed to the human voice, modulated by the will in the trachea, or afpera arteria : for this natural wind-inftrument, in Englifh aptly named the wind-pipe, while it tranfmits the air breathed out from the lungs, receives any degree of tenfion it is capable of, at the pleafure of the mind. In like manner, a repetition of the fame tone from a fingle human voice, as well as from a fingle monochord, is termed a monotony.—S.

a An interval is the diftance [or difference nxra roirov, with regard to place] between any two mufical founds, (between that which is acute relatively to the other, and that other which is relatively a grave,) however near together they may be, or however remote from each other, on any fcale of mufic. In proportion to the nearnefs or remotenefs of thefe two founds, the interval between them is, in mathematical language, faid to be fmall or great; that is , it is fhort or long. So that different mufical intervals, like all other different diftances from place to place, effentially differ one from another in magnitude or length. And on this effential difference are founded all the other divertities of the intervals.

3 The bounds of each interval are thofe two mufical founds, from either of which there is made an immediate flep or tranfition to the other. Of all mufical founds the three principal were: 'vnctin the moji grave, V»IT»I the mojl acute, and IAW* the middle between thofe other two, on the moft antient fc. le of mufic; which confifted of only feven founds, produced by ftriking on the fame number 'A ftv.ngs, all of different lengths. We account thofe three juft now mentioned the principal, becaufe the firft and eafieft divifion of any quantity, whether it be continuous or difcrete, is into two equal parts, or halves : the moft diftinguifhable points or bounds of i t , •therefore, however it be afterwards fubdivided, are the two extremes and the middle. Accord-

VOL. I V . 3 ingly


pofed out of them; (which our predeceffors having difcovered, delivered down to us, who come after them, by the name of harmonies 1 ; and having

difcovered

ingly Plato, in his 4th book De Republica, edit. Cantab, pag. 314, fpeaking of thenar*, the 'vnaty^ and the fitovi, the higheft, the loweft, and the middle found in mufic, calls them opovg rpeif apponaz the three bounds of harmony, and likens to them the three moft evidently diftinguifhed parts of the foul,—the rational part, the higheft ; the concupifcible, the loweft and the irafcible, between them both.—S.

4 A fyftcm is a compofition of three or more mufical founds ; of (what amounts to the fame thing) it is an extent, comprehending two or more intervals. Of thefe fyftems the general diver-fities are laid down by Ariftides, pag. 15 & feq. But in his definition of a fyftem (as it is printed) an important error deferves notice. For we there read—irXtiovw n


•difcovered other fuch affect ions 1 in the m o t i o n s of the b o d y , and in Words 1, m e a f u r i n g thefe by n u m b e r s , they h a v e t a u g h t us to call t h e m r h y t h m s 5 a n d m e t r e s $ b idd ing u s to infer f rom h e n c e , that eve ry one-and~

•many o u g h t to be fearched in to a n d e x a m i n e d in the f a m e w a y ; ) w h e n y o u h a v e learn t a l l thofe t h ings , a n d c o m p r e h e n d t h e m fn this a m p l e m a n n e r , w i t h a l l their fevera l diverf i t ies and d is t inc t ions , t hen a r e y o u b e c o m e fkil led

in muf ic . A n d by conf ider ing in the f a m e way the n a t u r e o f a n y o the r k i n d of b e i n g , when you thus fully c o m p r e h e n d it, y o u a r e b e c o m e in tha t refpecl: In te l l igen t a n d w i f e . B u t the infinite m u l t i t u d e o f i nd iv idua l s , their infinite

va r i e ty , a n d the infinite c h a n g e s inc iden t to e a c h , k e e p y o u infinitely far off

f r o m in te l l i gence and w i f d o m : and a s they m a k e y o u to be beh ind o the r m e n in eve ry pa th o f k n o w l e d g e , they m a k e y o u inconf iderab le , a n d of no

Pfellus :—'Ap/Aovix t


account, not to be numbered amongft the knowing in any fubjecr; becaufe you never confider any thing thoroughly, and are unable to give a true account of it, never looking at the definite number which it contains.

P R O T . Excellently well, O Philebus, as it appears to me , has Socrates fpoken in what he has now faid.

P H I L . It appears fo too to me myfelf. But how does all this fpeech of his concern our controverfy ? What was the defign or drift of it ?

S o c . A very pertinent queftion, O Protarchus, this, propofed to us by Philebus.

P R O T . Indeed it is : and by all means give it an anfwer. S o c T h a t will I do, as foon as I have gone through the little yet remain

ing of the fubject on which I have been fpeaking. For, as the man who applies himfelf to the confideration of any kind of things whatever ought not, as I have faid, to throw his eye at once upon the infinite, but upon fome definite number in the firft place ; fo, on the other hand, when a man is obliged to fet out from the infinite, he ought not to mount up immediately to the one, but to fome certain number, in each of whofe ones a certain multitude is contained ; and thus gradually rifing from a greater to a lefs number, to end in one. As an inftance of what I have now faid, let us re-fume the confideration of letters.

P R O T . In what way ? S o c Whoever it was, whether fome G o d , or fome divine man, (the

Egyptian reports fay that his name was T h e u t h ' , ) who firft contemplated the infinite nature of the human voice, he obferved, that amongft the infinity of the founds- it uttered the vowel founds * were more than one, they were many. Again, other utterances he obferved, which were not indeed, vowels 3 ,

but

' See the Notes on the Phaedrus, vol. iii.—T. * That is, founds purely vocal; whence the letters by which they are diftinguifhed are called

T o w e l s ; in the utterance of which founds the voice folely is employed, whilft the other organs of fpeech remain inactive.—S.

3 In the Greek of this paffage, as it is printed by Aldus and by Stephens, we here read—uvn and


but partook, however, of fome kind of vocal found * ; and that of thefe alio there was a certain number a . A third fort of letters alfo he fet apart, thofe which are now called mutes by u s 3 . After this he di/tinguifhed every one of thefe letters which are without any vocal found, whether perfect or imperfect. 4 : the vowels alfo, and thofe of middle fort, every one of them, he

dittinguifhed

in fome manufcript copy of Plato) immediately after the word


di f t ingu i fhed in the f a m e m a n n e r : a n d w h e n he had d i fcovered h o w m a n y

l e t t e r s t he re w e r e o f e a c h fort , t o e v e r y o n e , a n d to a l l o f t h e m toge the r , he

g a v e t he n a m e o f e l e m e n t . B u t p e r c e i v i n g tha t n o n e o f us cou ld underf tand

a n y o n e o f t h e m by i t fe lf a l o n e , w i t h o u t l e a r n i n g t h e m a l l , he confidered tha t

th i s c o n n e c t i o n , or c o m m o n bond b e t w e e n t h e m , w a s o n e ; and that all thefe

l e t t e r s m a d e in a m a n n e r bu t o n e t h i n g : and a s h e pe r ce ived tha t there w a s

o n e a r t in a l l the fe , he ca l l ed i t , f r o m its fubject m a t t e r , the a r t o f le t ters .

P H I L . T h i s w h i c h S o c r a t e s n o w fays , O P r o t a r c h u s , I under f t and ftill

m o r e p la in ly than w h a t he faid j u f t b e f o r e ; and a m a t n o lofs to a p p r e h e n d

w h a t r e l a t ion each o f the fubjects a b o u t w h i c h he has fpoken has to the

o t h e r . B u t a s t o tha t a r t i c l e in w h i c h his a r g u m e n t on the firft o f thofe fub

j e c t s a p p e a r e d to m e t o be d e f e c t i v e , I a m a t a lofs ftill.

S o c . T o k n o w w h a t thofe in f tances a r e to the purpofe ; is not this your

m e a n i n g ?

P H I L . J u f t fo . T h i s v e r y t h i n g it is tha t P r o t a r c h u s a n d m y f e l f a r e a l l

t h i s w h i l e in f ea rch of.

S o c . I n fearch ftill, d o y o u fay, w h e n y o u a r e ju f t n o w a r r i ved a t it ?

P H I L . H O W f o ?

S o c . W a s not the po in t o r i g i n a l l y in difpute b e t w e e n us t h i s : W h e t h e r

w i f d o m or p l ea fu re w a s the m o r e e l ig ib l e ?

P H I L . C e r t a i n l y it w a s .

S o c . A n d d o w e n o t a d m i t that each o f t h e m is o n e th ing ?

P H I L . W i t h o u t d o u b t .

S o c . N o w then muf t c o m e th is que f t ion , arif ing na tu ra l ly f rom w h a t w a s

fa id a l i t t le be fo re the m e n t i o n o f muf ic and g r a m m a r , — I n w h a t w a y (or by

w h a t d iv i f ion) a r e w i f d o m a n d p l e a f u r e , e a c h o f t h e m , o n e a n d m a n y ? or

h o w is i t , t ha t ne i t he r o f t h e m b r e a k s in to infinite m u l t i t u d e d i r e c t l y ; bu t

t ha t e a c h c o n t a i n s f o m e ce r t a in n u m b e r be fore it pafs into infinity ?

P R O T . U p o n n o t r iv ia l que f t i on , O Ph i l ebus , on a fudden has S o c r a t e s ,

a f t e r h a v i n g l ed u s a l a r g e r o u n d - a b o u t w a y , I k n o w not h o w , t h r o w n u s .

A n d n o w conf ider , w h i c h o f u s t w o fhall a n f w e r to the quef t ion he has p r o -

to call it

T H E P H I L E B U S . 4 8 7

poled. It would be ridiculous in me, who have undertaken the fupport of your argument, to make an abfolute revolt on account of my disability in regard to the prefent queftion ; and fo to remit over again to you the tafk of giving an anfwer to i t : but I think it would be much more ridiculous for both of us to fail. Confider, then, what we fhall do in this cafe, where Socrates feems to interrogate us concerning the fpecies of pleafure -y—whether it is divifible into different fpecies, or not; and, if it be, what is the number of thefe fpecies, and how they differ in their nature : and the like queftions he feems to put to us concerning knowledge and intelligence.

S o c . Your conjecture is perfectly right, O fon of Callias ! and, if we are not able to anfwer to thefe queftions upon every monad, as to its likenefs, famenefs, and contrariety,—unlefs, 1 fay, we can do this,—the inftances juft now produced have fhown, that none of us , in any matter we had to handle, would ever be of any worth at all.

PROTV T h e cafe, O Socrates, feems indeed to be not very different from your reprefentation of it. Wel l , it is certainly a fine thing to know all things, for a wife and prudent perfon : but I think the beft thing, next to that is for a man not to be ignorant of himfelf. With what defign I have now faid this, I fhall proceed to tell you. T h i s converfation, O Socrates, you have granted to us all, and have given yourfelf up to us, for the purpofe of inveftigating what is the beft of human goods. For , when Philebus had faid that it confifted in pleafure, and delight, and joy, and all things of the like nature, you oppofed him on this point, and faid, it confifted not in thefe things, but in thofe which we often repeat the mention of; and we are right in fo doing, that the opinions on each fide, being always frefh in our memories, may the more eafily be examined. You then, it feems, fay, what I fhall be right in again repeating, that intellect:, fcience, art, and whatever is allied to them, are better things than Pleafure with her al l ies; and there fore, that the poffeffion, not of thefe, but of thofe greater goods, ought to be the object of our aim. Now thefe pofitions being laid down feverally on each fide, as fubject-mattcrs of our debate, we in a jocofe way threatened, that we would not fuffer you to go home quietly before it was brought to a fair determination. You complied, and promifed us to contribute all you could towards the accompJifhment of that end. W e infift therefore that, as

children 6


children fay, you muft not take away again what is fairly given. But, in the prefent inquiry, forbear proceeding in your ufual way.

Soc . What way do you mean ? P R O T . Bringing us into {traits and embarralfments ; propounding quef-

tions to which we (hould not be able on the fudden to give a proper anfwer. F o r we are not to imagine that our prefent inquiry is brought to a con-clufion, merely becaufe ail of us are at a lofs what to anfwer. If, therefore, we are unable to extricate ourfelves from thefe difficulties, you muft help us o u t ; for fo you promifed. Confider, then, what to do on this occafion ; whether to diiiinguifh pleafure and knowledge, each of them, into their proper fpecies ; or whether to pafs it by, if you choofe to take a different way, and can find fome other means of deciding the matter now controverted between us .

S o c . N o harm then need I 'be afraid of any longer to myfelf, fince you have faid t h i s 1 . For your leaving to my own choice what ways and means to make ufe of, frees me from all apprehenfions on my own private account. But , to make it ftill eafier to me, fome God, I think, has brought things to my remembrance.

P R O T . H O W do you mean ? What things ? S o c . Having formerly heard, either in a dream a , or broad awake, certain

fayings, I have them now again prefent to my mind ;—fayings concerning pleafure and knowledge, that neither of them is of itfelf good, but fome third thing, different from both of thofe, and better than either. Now if this fhould difcover itfelf to us clearly, pleafure is then to be difmiffed from any pretenfions to the victory. For we fhould then no longer expect to find that pleafure and good are the fame thing : or how fay you r

PROT. Juft fo. S o c . W e fhall have no occafion then, in my opinion, for diftinguifhing the

1 Alluding to thofe jocular threats employed by the young gentlemen, then in the Lycaeum, and gathered around Socrates, to engage him in this dialectic inquiry.—S.

a Olympiodorus here juftly obferves, that we poffefs the reafons of things as in a dream, with refpect to a feparate life fupernally perfected; but as in a vigilant ftate with refpect to the exertion of them through fenfe. Perhaps however, fays he, it is better to confider the vigilant ftate with


feveral fpecies of pleafure. And in the progrefs of our inquiry it v\ ill appear more evidently ftill that I am in the right.

PROT. Having begun fo happily, proceed, and finifh with the fame fuccefs. S o c . Let us, firft, agree upon a few little points befide. PROT. W h a t are thofe r S o c . In what condition or ftate of being is the good? Muft it of neceftity

be perfect 1 ? or may it want perfection ? PROT. Of all things, O Socrates, it is the moft perfect. Soc . W e l l ; and is it alfo fufficient ? PROT. Without doubt: and in this refpect it excells all other things. S o c . But further : This alfo, I prefume, is of all things the moft neceffary

to fay of it, that every being to whom it is known, hunts after, and defires it, as choofing the poffeffion of it above all things; and, indeed, caring for no other things, except fuch as are conftantly attended with the enjoyment of good.

P R O T . There is no poffibility of contradicting this. S o c Now, then, let us confider and judge of the life of pleafure and the

life of knowledge : and to do this the better, let us view them each apart from the other.

1 The defirable, fays Olympiodorus, proceeds from the intelligible father * ; the fufficient from power; and the perfect from the paternal intellect. In reality, however, perfection is the third from effence: for the middle is life. But if this be true, it is evident that the end is different from perfection; for the latter is the Iaft; but the former the firft, to which effence, life, and intellect, and therefore all things converge. So that in every form, in a fimilar manner, the end will be the fummit, and that which connectedly contains the whole ; but perfection will be the third, fubfiffmg after effence and life: for it is neceffary that a thing fliould be, and fliould live, that it may become perfect.

Again, the perfect is fpread under the fufficient, in the fame manner as the full under the fuper-full, and thefufficient tinder the definable. For things when full excite to defire. The firjl end, likewife, is above the defirable, the fufficient, and the perfect. For that is fimple and ineffable; and hence Socrates does not fay that it is compofed from the elements; but that thefe elements poffefs indefinitely a portion of the good. It is better, however, to call the coordinated common contraction (ewaiptua) of the three a portion of the good, though this is anonymous. For the gvod is all things, and not only thefe three; nor is it alone the end, but is truly all things prior to all. Befides, the end which is now the object of confideration is knowable, fo that there will be another end more common than this.—T.

* T h a t is, f rom the f u m m i t o f the inte l l ig ible o r d e r . — S e e the P a r m e n i d e s .

wl, iv. } R P R O T .

T H E P H I L E B U S ,

P R O T . HOW do you mean ? S o c . T h u s : L e t us fuppofe a life of pleafure, unaccompanied by intelh-.

gence ; and, on the other hand, a life of intelligence, unaccompanied by pleafure. For , if either of them be good, it muff be complete and fufficient, in want of no aid from any other quarter. But, if cither of them mould appear to be indigent of aught, or infufficient, we are no longer to imagine this to be that real and true good we are in fearch of.

P R O T . In fuch a cafe, how could we ? S o c . Shall we then examine their pretenfions tjius feparately, making

your own mind the judge ? PROT. With all my heart. S o c . Anfwer then to my queftions. P R O T . Propofe them. S o c . Would you, Protarchus, accept the offer, were it made you, to live

all your life with a fenfe and feeling of pleafures the moft exquifite ? P R O T . Undoubtedly. Why not ? S o c . Suppofe you were in full poffefflon of this, would you not think that

fomething befide was ftill wanting to you ? P R O T . I certainly mould not. S o c . Confider now, whether you would not be in want of wifdom, and

intelligence, and reafoning, and fuch other things as are the fifters of thefe; at leaft whether you woukThot want to fee fomething.

P R O T . W h y fhould I, when I had in a manner all things, in having continual joy ?

S o c . L iv ing thus then continually all your life, would the moft exquifite pleafures give you any joy ?

P R O T . Why not? S o c . Having neither intellect, nor memory, nor fcience, nor opinion,—

in the firft place of this very thing, your poffeffibn of joy, you muft of neceffity be ignorant, and unable to lay whether you then had any joy, or not, being void of all juft difcernment or knowledge of things prefent.

P R O T . I muft. S o c . Being alfo void of memory, it would be impoffible for you to re

member that you ever had any joy ; or to prefcrve even the leaft memorial of a joy then prefent: wanting alfo right opinion, you could not fo much

4 ' as


as think you had any joy, though in the midft of i t : unable alfo to reafon or draw confcqnences, you could not pofftblv conclude that ever you fhould have any joy to come. T h u s you would live the life, not of a man, but of a fea-fponge, or of an oyfter. Are thefe things fo ? or ought we to think other-wife concerning them ?

P R O T . A life of mere pleafure muff be fuch as you have defcribed it. S o c . Do we think, then, that fuch a life is eligible ? P R O T . T h e defcription of it, O Socrates, has fdenced me entirely for the

prefent. Soc . N a y ; let us not fhrink fo foon from purfuing our inquiries; but pro

ceed to the confideration of that other life, the life of intellect. P R O T . What kind of life is that ? f S o c . L e t us confider, whether any of us would choofe to live with wif

dom, and intellect, and fcience, and a perfect memory of all things; but without partaking of pleafure, whether great or fmal l ; and, on the other hand, without partaking of pa in; wholly exempt from all feelings of either kind.

P R O T . T O me, O Socrates, neither of thefe lives appears eligible ; and I think never would appear fo to any other man.

S o c . What think you of a middle life, where both of them are mixed together—a life compofed of the other two ?

PROT. Compofed of pleafure do you mean, on the one hand, and of intellect and wifdom on the other hand ?

S o c Juft fo : fuch a life do I mean. PROT. Every man would certainly prefer fuch a kind of life to either of

the other two. S o c . Perceive wc now what the refult is of our difcourfing thus far on the

fubjeel now before us ? P R O T . Perfectly well; it is this : that three lives have been propofed for

our confideration, and that neither of the two firft-mentioned appears fufficient or eligible for any one, neither for man, nor any other animal.

S o c . Is it not evident, then, with regard to the point in controverfy, that neither of thofe two lives can give the poffeffion of the good ? for, whichever of them had fuch a power, that life would be fufficient, perfect, and eligible

3 R 2 alfo


alfb to all thofe a n i m a l s 1 who are capable of.living in the continual enjoyment of the good all their lives. And whoever of us fhould give any other life the preference to that, would make his election contrary to the nature of the truly eligible, though not willingly, becaufe through ignorance, or fome unhappy neceffity.

P R O T . What you fay is highly probable indeed. S o c . T h a t we ought not to think that Goddefs of Philebus to be the iame

thing with the good, has been fhown, I think, fufficiently. P H I L . Neither is that intellect of yours, O Socrates, the good; for it will

be found deficient in the fame refpects. S o c . Mine perhaps, O Philebus, m a y ; but not that intellect which is

divine and true ; for it is otherwife, I prefume, with this. However, I do not contend for the chief prize of victory, in behalf of the life of intellect againft the middle or mixed life. But what to do with the fecond prize, and which life to beitow it on, is next to be confidered. For the caufe of that happinefs which the mixed life affords, one of us, perhaps, may afcribe to intellect, the other of us to pleafure. And thus, neither of thefe two would be man's fovereign good, and yet one or other of them may perhaps be fup-pofed the caufe of it. Now on this point I would ftill more earneftly contend againft Philebus,—that not pleafure, but intellect, is the neareft allied, and the moft fimilar to that, whatever it be, by the poffeflion of which the mixed life becomes eligible and good. And if this account be true, pleafure can never be faid to have any juft pretentions either to the firft or to the fecond prize of excellence. Still further is fhe from coming in for the third prize, if any credit may be given for the prefent to that intellect of mine.

P R O T . Indeed, O Socrates, it feems to me that Pleafure is now fallen: your reafons have been like fo many blows given her; under the force of which, fighting for the mafter-prize, fhe lies vanquifhed. But I think, how-

1 In the Greek,—xa


ever, that we muft fay it was prudent in Intellect, not to contend for that prize ; for fhe would otherwife have met with the fame fate. N o w if Pleafure fhould alfo lofe the prize of fecond value, as already fhe has loft the higheft, fhe muft entirely fall into difgrace with her own lovers: for even to them fhe would no longer appear to merit fuch honour as they paid to her before.

S o c Well then ; is it not the better way to difmifs her now direclly, and not give her pain, by infpecling into her too nicely, and difcovering all her imperfections ?

P R O T . What you now fay goes for nothing, Socrates. S o c . Do you mean, becaufe I fuppofed an impoffible thing when I fup-

pofed that pain might be given to pleafure? PROT. Not on that account only, but becaufe you are fenfible that none

of us will give you a difcharge before you have brought thefe arguments to a conclufion.

S o c . Ah ! the copious matter of argument, O Protarchus, ftill behind! and fcarcely is any part of it very manageable on the prefent occafion For , whoever ftands forth as the champion of Intellect to win the fecond prize for her, muft, as it appears to me, take another way of combating, and has need of other weapons different from thofe reafons I before made ufe of: fome, however, of the fame may, perhaps, be of ufe again. Muft we then, proceed in that manner?

PROT. By all means. S o c But let us begin cautioufly, and endeavour to lay down right prin

ciples. PROT, What principles do you mean ? S o c . All things which are now in the univerfe let us divide into two

forts, or rather, if you pleafe, into three.

1 Aldus's edition of Plato, by omitting the word oufo in this fentence, gives a quite contrary turn to it. Stephens, in his edition, has inferted the oufc : and this reading we have preferred to the former ; becaufe it makes much better fenfe, and is agreeable alfo to Ficinus's translation from the Mediccan manufeript. It is ttrangethat Grynceus,who undertook to revife that tranflation, (hould depart from it here, where it is evidently right, to follow the erroneous reading in the A l -dine edition. Cornarius, Serranus, Bembo, and Grou, were not fo milled.—S.

P h o t ,


P R O T . YOU fhould tell us what difference between things it is, with refpecl to which you make that divifion.

Soc. Some things which have been already mentioned let us realTume. P R O T . What things ? Soc . God, w,e laid, has exhibited1 the infinite, and alfo the bound of

beings. P O T . Very true.

S o c

« Proclus, in Platon. Theol. p. 132, obferves, that Plato here, according to the theology of fiis country, eftablifhcs two principles after the one. And, according to Philolaus, the nature of beings is connected from things bounded and things infinite. If beings, therefore, fubfift from bound and the infinite, it is evident that thefe two muft be prior to beings, or, in other words, muft be fuperetfential. Hence, as found and the infinite are fupereflential, Socrates with great propriety fays that " God has exhibited^ them." For their proceflion from the higheft God is ineffable, and tliev may be rather faid to be arcane manifellations from him than his produclions. Mr. Sydenham, from being unacquainted with the fublime theology of the Greeks, has totally miftaken the profound meaning of this paifagc in his tranflation, which is as follows: —" The Gods, we faid, have fliown us the infinite of things, and alfo their bound." For the original is tov Seov tteyofisv 'nov) TO fxiv aneipov $£i|a» rm ovruv, TO & trepaf.

Should it be afked, fays Olympiodorus, how the two elements bound and infinity are better than that which is mixed, fince thefe two elements are the principles of being; we reply, that thefe principles mull be confidered as total orders more fimple than that which is mixt; and that fecondary principles proceed from thefe two, in the firft mixt, which are fubordinate to the mixt, 5n the fame manner as elements are every where fubordinate to that which is compofed from them.

Again, neither is perfect feparation in the fecond * order: for the fabrication of form firft pertains to intellect; and the firft intellect is pure intellect. Hence, Jamblichus fays that the monads of forms fubfift in this, meaning by monads that which is unfeparated in every form. On this account it is intellectual as in intellectuals, and is the caufe of formal eflence, juft as the fecond is the caufe of life, and the third of the fabrication of form in intellectuals.

Again, the egg, the paternal intellect, occult number; and, in fhort, that which is the third from bound, refpcctivcly fignify the third God, according to theologifts, and confequently each is the fame as that which is mixt from bound and infinity.

Further ftill, the one principle which gives fubfiftence to, and is the end of, all things, contains the final as fuperior to the producing; for hypoftafis is through the ends. But the firft principle is both thefe according to the one: and the two principles bound and infinity diftribute thefe; bound fubfifting according to the final, and infinity according to the producing caufe.

. * The reader muft remember that the intelligible order confifts of being, life, and intclltcl, and that each cS thefe receives a triadic divifion.—Sec the Notes on the Parmenides.

Again,


Soc. L e t us t a k e thefe for t w o o f the fpec ies o f t h i n g s ; a n d for a th i rd let us t a k e tha t , w h i c h is c o m p o f e d o f thofe t w o m i x e d t o g e t h e r . B u t I d e

fe rve , m e t h i n k s , to be l a u g h e d a t for p r e t e n d i n g thus to d i f t inguifh t h i n g s ,

a n d to e n u m e r a t e thei r fevera l fpec i e s .

P R O T . W h y fo , m y g o o d fr iend ?

S o c . A four th k i n d a p p e a r s to h a v e been o m i t t e d by m e .

PROT . S a y , W h a t ?

S o c O f that c o m m i x t u r e , the c o m b i n a t i o n o f the f o r m e r t w o , conf ider

the c a u f e : a n d befide thofe th ree fpec ie s , fet m e d o w n this c a u f e * for a

four th .

PROT . W i l l y o u no t w a n t a fifth fpecies t o o , for a caufe o f d i funion a n d

fepara t ion ?

S o c . P e r h a p s I m a y ; bu t no t , I b e l i e v e , a t p re fen t . H o w e v e r , fhould

there b e occaf ion for i t , y o u w i l l p a r d o n m e , i f I g o in purfui t o f a fifth

l i fe .

PROT . C e r t a i n l y .

S o c O f thefe four fpecies , t hen , in the firft p l a c e d i v i d i n g the th ree , and

pe rce iv ing that t w o o f thefe , w h e n bo th a r e d iv ided , a n d their divif ions f e p a

ra ted , a r e , e ach o f t h e m , m a n y ; — t h e n , g a t h e r i n g t o g e t h e r the m a n y o f each, ,

and un i t ing t h e m a g a i n , let us e n d e a v o u r to under f t and in w h a t m a n n e r e a c h

o f them i s , a t the f a m e t i m e , o n e a n d m a n y .

P R O T . W o u l d y o u but exp re f s you r m e a n i n g m o r e p l a in ly , I m i g h t , p e r

h a p s , a p p r e h e n d it.

S o c I m e a n , then, by the t w o , w h i c h I propofe to be n o w conf idered , the

f a m e w h i c h I m e n t i o n e d a t the firft ; o n e o f t h e m the infinitey a n d the o the r

bound. T h a t the infinite i s , in. f o m e m a n n e r , m a n y , I will a t t e m p t to f h o w :

and let bound wa i t a w h i l e .

PROT . It fhall .

A g a i n , Socrates eftablifhing that which is mixt as a certain caufe of union, t h e caufe of feparation is a l f o inveftigated. This caufe, however, will be the difference which f u b f i f t s after the int e l l i g i b l e , a s wc learn from the Parmenides. For the intelligible is united alone. But it would b e better to make the one the caufe of all things ; l.ound the caufe of union; infinite of feparation; and the mixt that which participates of both. Obferve, too, that the more and the lefs are every where, but in intelligibles according to a fuperior and inferior degree of power.—T.

1 That \s} the ineffable principle of things.—T. S o c


S o c Give me now your attention. It is, I confefs, a difficult and doubtful thing, that, which I would have you to confider. Confider it, however. Firft, with regard to hotter and colder, in things, fee if you can think of any bound. Or would not the more and the lefs, refiding in the kinds themfelves of things, hinder, fo long as they refide there, an end from being fixed to them ? For , if ever they receive an end, to an end alfo are their very beings then brought.

P R O T . Moft certainly true. S o c . And in fpeaking of either the colder or the hotter of any two thing?,

we conftantly attribute to them the more and the lefs. P R O T . And very much fo. S o c . Reafon then conftantly fuggefts to us that the colder and the hotter

have no end : and being thus without any end, they are altogether bonnd-lefs.

P R O T . I a m ftrongly inclined to agree with you, Socrates in this point. S o c . Wel l have you anfwered, my friend Protarchus ; and well have you

reminded me , that the frongly, which you mentioned, and the faintly, have the fame power as the more and the lefs. For, wherever they refide, they fuffer not any thing to be juft fo much ; but infufing either the more / « -tenfe or the more remifs into every action, they always produce in it either the more or the lefs ; while the juft fo much flies away and vanifhes from before them. F o r , as it was juft now obferved, were they not to drive away the juft fo much, or did they permit this, and the moderate, to enter into the regions of the more and the lefs, or of the intenfe and the remifs, thefe very beings muft quit their own places: becaufe, if they admitted the juft fo much, the hotter and the colder would be gone. For the hotter, and in like manner the colder, is always advancing forward, and never abides in the fame fpot: but the juft fo much ftops, and ftays, having finiftied its progrefs. Now, according to this reafoning, the hotter muft be houndlefs; and fo muft alfo be the colder.

P R O T . S O it appears indeed, Socrates. But, as you rightly faid, it is not cafv to apprehend thefe things. Queftions, however, relating to them, again and again repeated, might perhaps fhow that the queftioner and the refpon-dent were tolerably well agreed in their minds concerning them.

S p c You fay wel l : and we fhould try fo to do. But at prefent, to avoid l eng then ing


lengthening out this argument, by enumerating every infinite, confider, whether we may take this for the characteriftic mark of the nature of all infinites.

PROT . What mark do you mean ? S o c . Whatever things appear to us to be increaling or diminifhing, or to

admit of intenfenefs and remifTion, or the too much, and all other fuch attributes, we ought to refer all thefe to the genus of the infinite ; collecting, as it were, all of them in one, agreeably to what was before faid ; that whatever things were divided and feparated we ought to affemble together and combine, as well as we are able, affixing to all of them the mark of fome one nature ;—if you remember.

PROT. I remember it well. S o c . Every thing, then, which rejects all fuch attributes, and admits only

fuch as are quite the contrary,—in the firft place, the equal and equality, and, after the equal, the double, and every other relation which one number bears to another, and one meafure to another,—all thefe things, I fay, in fumming up, and referring them to bound, think you not that we fhould do right ? or how fay you ?

PROT. Perfectly right, O Socrates. S o c Wel l : but the third thing made up, and confifting of the other two,

what characteriftic fhall we afTign to this ? PROT. YOU, as I prefume, will fhow it to me. Soc . Divinity indeed m a y ; if any of the Gods will hearken to my prayers. PROT. Pray, then, and furvey. Soc . I furvey: and fome God, O Protarchus, is now, methinks, become

favourable to us. PROT. HOW do you mean ? and by what fign do you know it ? S o c . I will tell you in plain words: but do you follow them clofely. PROT. Only fpeak. S o c . W e mentioned juft now the hotter and the colder; did we not? PROT. We did. S o c . T o thefe then add the drier and the moifter; the more numerous

and the fewer ; the fwifter and the flower; the larger and the fmaller ; and whatever things befide, in our late account of them, we ranked under one head,—that which admits of the nature of the more and the lefs.

VOL. iv. 3 s PROT.

4 0 8 T H E P H I L E B U S .

PROT. YOU mean the infinite. S o c . I d o : and mingle together with this that which we fpoke of next

afterward,—the race of bound. PROT . What race do you mean ? S o c . Thofe things which we did not (as we ought to have done) affemble

together under one head", in the fame manner as we affembled together the race of the infinite. But you will now, perhaps, do what was then omitted. And when both the forts are affembled, and viewed together, the race of bound will then become manifeft.

PROT . W h a t things do you fpeak of? and how are they to be affembled ? S o c . 1 fpeak of that nature in which are comprifed the equal and the

double; and whatever elfe puts an end to conteft between contrary things; and, introducing number, makes them to be commenfurate one with another, and to harmonize together.

PROT . I apprehend your meaning to be, that, from the commixture of thofe two, a certain progeny will arife between them in every one of their tribes.

S o c Y o u apprehend me rightly. PROT . Relate then the progeny of thefe commixtures. S o c In difeafes, does not the right commixture of thofe two produce the

recovery of health f P R O T . Entirely fo. S p c . And in the acute and the grave, in the fwift alfo and the flow, which

are all of them infinite, does not the other fort, received among them, and begetting bounds, conftitute the perfection of all the Mufe's art ?

PROT . Certainly fo. S o c . And in weather exceffively either cold or hot, does not the entrance

of that other kind take off the excefs, the vehement, and the infinite,—generating in their ftead, not only the moderate and the meafured, but fymmetry alfo, and correfpondence between their meafures ?

PROT . Without difpute. S o c . And do not propitious feafons, and all their fair productions, arife

to us from hence, from the mixture of things which are infinite with things which have a bound ?.

PROT . Doubtlefs,

4 S o c .

Tfcfc P H I L E B U S .

S o c . A thoufand other things I forbear to mention; as, for inftance, ftrength and beauty, the attendants upon health of body ; and in the foul other excellencies, very many and very noble. For Venus herfelf, O good Philebus ! obferving lawlefs luft, and all manner of vice every where reigning, the love of pleafure being in all men boundlefs, and their defires of it infatiable, (he herfelf eftablifhed a law and an order, fetting bounds to pleafure and defire. This you faid was to lefTen and to impair pleafure ; but I maintain, that, on the contrary, it preferved pleafure from decay. And you, Protarchus! what think you of it ?

PROT . For my part, I am entirely of your mind, Socrates. S o c . I have fhown you then thofe three kinds, if you apprehend my

meaning. P R O T . Partly, I fuppofe, I do. By one of thofe three, I fuppofe, you mean

the infinite; by another, the fecond fort, you mean that which in all beings is the bound; but what you mean by the third fort, I have no ftrong appre-henfion of.

Soc . Becaufe the care of that third fort, my friend, has amazed you with its multitude. And yet, the infinite alfo appeared to contain many tribe

the philebus - universal theosophy · philebus, in fupport of his own affertion, had been...

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